LIKE AND UNLIKE.
When she awoke to consciousness she was lying on a bed in an apartment
which was a strange compound of sitting- and sleeping-room. The
bed stood in a capacious alcove which seemed to have been built
on as an afterthought. The three sides were windows, in the outer
of which were tastefully arranged numerous flowering plants, some
of which had clambered up to the ceiling and hung in graceful
festoons above the bed. The window-shades were so arranged as to
be worked by cords, which hung within easy reach of one lying there.
The night had not fully come, but a lamp was burning at the side
of the bed yet beyond its head-board, so that its rays lit up the
windows and the green trailing vines, but did not fall upon the
bed. In an invalid's chair drawn near the bedside, a lady well past
the middle age but with a face of singular sweetness and refinement
was watching and directing the efforts which were being made for
the resuscitation of the fainting girl by two servant women, who
were busily engaged in chafing her hands and making warm applications
to her chilled limbs.
As she opened her eyes they took in all these things, but she could
not at once remember what had happened or where she was, This sweet
vision of a home interior was so different from the low, heavy-beamed
rooms and little diamond-paned windows of the Ordinary, even after
all her attempts to make it cosy, that she seemed to have awakened
in fairy land. She wondered dully why she had never trained ivies
and Madeira vines over those dark beams, and blushed at the thought
that so simple a device had never occurred to her. She lay motionless
until she had recalled the incidents of the day. She had recognized
Mr. Le Moyne at once, and she knew by instinct that the graceful
lady who sat beside her was she who had written her the only word
of sympathy or appreciation she had ever received from one of her
own sex in the South. She was anxious for a better view and turned
toward her.
"Ah, here are you, my dear!" said a soft, low voice, as the light
fell upon her opened eyes. "Move me up a little, Maggie," to one
of the servants." We are glad to see you coming around again. Don't
move, dear," she continued, as she laid her thin soft hand upon the
plump one of the reclining girl." You are among friends. The storm
and the ride were too much for you, and you fainted for a little
while. That is all. There is no trouble now. You weren't hurt, were
you?" she asked anxiously.
"No," said the other, wonderingly.
"We are glad of that," was the reply. "You are exhausted, of course,
but if you do not get cold you will soon be all right. Maggie,"
she continued, to the servant, "tell Mr. Hesden to bring in that
hot toddy now. He had better put the juice of a lemon it it, too.
Miss Ainslie may not be accustomed to taking it. I am Mrs. Le Moyne,
I forgot to say," she added, turning to her unintended guest, "and
Hesden, that is my son, tells me that you are Miss Ainslie, the
brave young teacher at Red Wing whom I have long wished to see. I
am really glad that chance, or Hesden's old war horse Satan, brought
you here, or I am afraid I should never have had that pleasure.
This is Hesden," she continued, nodding toward him as he entered
with a small silver waiter on which was a steaming pitcher and
a delicate glass. "He has been my nurse so long that he thinks no
one can prepare a draught for a sick person so well as he, and I
assure you that I quite agree with his notion. You have met before,
I believe. Just take a good dose of this toddy and you will be
better directly. You got a terrible drenching, and I was afraid
you would have a congestive chill when they brought you in here as
white as a sheet with your teeth chattering like castanets."
Hesden Le Moyne filled the glass with the steaming decoction and
held the salver toward her. She took it and tried to drink.
"Hand me the waiter, Hesden," said his mother, reprovingly, "and
raise her head. Don't you see that Miss Ainslie cannot drink lying
there. I never saw you so stupid, my son. I shall have to grow
worse again soon to keep you from getting out of practice entirely."
Thus reproached, Hesden Le Moyne put his arm hesitatingly beneath
the pillow, raised the flushed face upon it and supported the young
lady while she quaffed the hot drink. Then he laid her easily down,
smoothed the pillow with a soft instinctive movement, poured out
a glass of the toddy which he offered to his mother, and then,
handing the waiter to the servant, leaned over his mother with a
caressing movement and said:
"You must look out, little mother. Too much excitement will not
do for you. You must not let Miss Ainslie's unexpected call disturb
you."
"No indeed, Hesden," she said, as she looked up at him gratefully,
"I feel really glad of any accident that could bring her under our
roof, now that I am satisfied that she is to experience no harm
from her stormy ride. She will be all right presently, and we will
have supper served here as usual. You may tell Laura that she need
be in no haste."
Having thus dismissed her son she turned to her guest and said:
"I have been an invalid so long that our household is all ordered
with regard to that fact. I am seldom able to be taken out to dinner,
and we have got into the habit of having a late supper here, just
Hesden, his little boy, and I, and to-night we will have the table
set by the bedside and you will join us."
The sudden faint was over; the toddy had sent the blood tingling
through the young girl's veins. The _role_ of the invalid was
an unaccustomed one for her to play, and the thought of supping
in bed was peculiarly distasteful to her self-helping Northern
training. It was not long before she began to manifest impatience.
"Are you in pain, dear?" asked the good lady, noticing with the
keen eye of the habitual invalid her restive movements.
"No, indeed," was the reply. "I am not at all sick. It was only
a little faint. Really, Mrs. Le Moyne, I would rather get up than
lie here."
"Oh, lie still," said the elder lady, cheerfully. "The room hardly
looks natural unless the bed is occupied. Besides," she added
with a light laugh, "you will afford me an excellent opportunity
to study effects. You seem to me very like what I must have been
when I was first compelled to abandon active life. You are very
nearly the same size and of much the same complexion and cast of
features. You will pardon an old lady for saying it, I am sure. Lest
you should not, I shall be compelled to add that I was considered
something of a beauty when I was young. Now, you shall give me
an idea of how I have looked in all the long years that couch has
been my home. I assure you I shall watch you very critically, for
it has been my pride to make my invalid life as pleasant to myself
and as little disagreeable to others as I could. Knowing that I
could never be anything else, I devised every plan I could to make
myself contented and to become at least endurable to my family."
"Everyone knows how well you have succeeded, Mrs, Le Moyne," said
the young girl. "It must indeed have been a sad and burdened life,
and it seems to me that you have contrived to make your sick room
a perfect paradise." "Yes, yes," said the other, sadly, "it is
beautiful. Those who loved me have been very indulgent and very
considerate, too. Not only every idea of my own has been carried
into effect, but they have planned for me, too. That alcove was
an idea of my husband's. I think that the sunlight pouring in at
those windows has done more to prolong my life than anything else.
I did not think, when thirty years ago I took to my bed, that I
should have survived him so long--so long--almost eight years. He
was considerably older than I, but I never looked to outlive him,
never.
"That lamp-stand and little book-rack," she continued, with
the garrulity of the invalid when discoursing of his own affairs,
"were Hesden's notions, as were many other things in the room. The
flowers I had brought in, one by one, to satisfy my hunger for the
world without. In the winter I have many more. Hesden makes the
room a perfect conservatory, then. They have come to be very dear
to me, as you may well suppose. That ivy now, over the foot of the
bed, I have watched it from a little slip not a finger high. It is
twenty-seven years old."
So she would have run on, no one knows to what length, had not the
servant entered to set the table for supper. Under her mistress'
directions she was about to place it beside the bed, when the young
girl sprang into a sitting posture and with flaming cheeks cried
out:
"Please, Mrs. Le Moyne, I had rather not lie here. I am quite
well--just as well as ever, and I wish you would let me get up."
"But how can you, dear?" was the reply. "Your clothes are drying
in the kitchen. They were completely drenched."
"Sure enough," answered Miss Ainslie. "I had forgotten that." She
laid herself down resignedly as the invalid said:
"If Hesden's presence would annoy you, he shall not come. I only
thought it might be pleasanter for you not to be confined to the
conversation of a crippled old woman. Besides, it is his habit, and
I hardly know what he would do if he had to eat his supper elsewhere."
"Oh, certainly, I would not wish to disturb your usual arrangement,"
answered Mollie, "but--" she began, and then stoppd with some signs
of confusion.
"But what, my dear?" asked the elder lady, briskly. "Do you mean
that you are not accustomed as I am to invalidism, and hardly like
the notion of supping in bed as an introduction to strangers? Well,
I dare say it would be annoying, and if you think you are quite
well enough to sit up, I reckon something better may be arranged."
"I assure you, Mrs. Le Moyne," said the other, "that I am quite
well, but pray do not let me make you any trouble."
"Oh, no trouble at all, dear; only you will have to wear one of
my gowns now many years old. I thought they were very pretty then,
I assure you. I should be very glad to see them worn again. There
are few who could wear them at all; but I think they would both fit
and suit you. You are like enough to me to be my daughter. Here,
you Maggie!"
She called the servant, and gave some directions which resulted in
her bringing in several dresses of an ancient pattern but exquisite
texture, and laying them upon the bed.
"You will have to appear in full dress, my dear, for I have no
other gowns that would be at all becoming," said Mrs. Le Moyne.
"How very beautiful!" said the girl sitting up in the bed, gazing
at the dainty silks and examining their quaint patterns. "But
really, Mrs. Le Moyne--"
"Now, please oblige me by making no more objections," interrupted
that lady. "Indeed," she added, shaking her finger threateningly
at her guest, "I will not listen to any more. The fit has seized
me now to have you sit opposite me at the table. It will be like
facing. my own youth; for now that I look at you more closely,
you seem wonderfully like me. Don't you think so, Maggie?"
"'Deed I do," said the servant, "an' dat's jes what Laura was a
sayin' ter me when we done fotch de young lady in here in a faint.
She sez ter me, sez she, 'Maggie, ebber you see anybody look so
much like de Mistis made young again?'"
"Hush, Maggie," said her mistress, gaily; "don't you see how the
young lady is blushing, while it is the poor, faded woman here in
the chair who ought to blush at such a compliment?"
And indeed the bright flushed face with its crown of soft golden
hair escaped from its customary bondage, tossing in sunny tendrils
about the delicate brow and rippling in waves of light over her
shoulders, was a picture which any woman past the middle life might
well blush and sigh to recognize as the counterpart of her youth.
The two women looked at each other and both laughed at the admiration
each saw in the other's glance.
"Well," said Mollie, as she sank smilingly on her pillow, "I see
I must submit. You will have your own way."
She raised her arm above' her head and toyed with a leaf of the
ivy which hung in graceful festoons about the head-board. As she
did so the loose-sleeved wrapper which had been flung about her
when her own drenched clothing was removed, fell down almost to
her shoulder and revealed to the beauty-worshipping watcher by the
bedside an arm of faultless outline, slender, pink-tinged, plump
and soft. When she had toyed lazily for a moment with the ivy, she
dropped her arm listlessly down upon the bed. It fell upon one of
the dresses which lay beside her.
"Ah, thank you!" exclaimed Mrs. Le Moyne.
"You have relieved me greatly. I was trying to decide which
one I wanted you to wear, when your arm dropped across that pale,
straw-colored silk, with the vine border around the corsage and the
clambering roses running down the front. That is the one you must
wear. I never wore it but once, and the occasion is one I shall
always like to recall."
There was a gleeful time in the invalid's room while the fair girl
was being habited in the garments of a by-gone generation, and when
Hesden Le Moyne and his boy Hildreth were admitted to the hearty
evening meal, two women who seemed like counterparts sat opposite
each other at the sparkling board--the one habited in black silk
with short waist, a low, square bodice with a mass of tender lawn
showing about the fair slender neck, puffed at the shoulders with
straight, close sleeves reaching to the wrists, around which peeped
some rows of soft white lace; the white hair combed in puffs beside
the brow, clustering above its pinky softness and falling in a
silvery cataract upon the neck. The style of the other's dress was
the same, save that the shoulders were uncovered, and except for
the narrow puff which seemed but a continuation on either side, of
the daintily-edged bodice, the arm hung pink and fair over the amber
satin, uncovered and unadorned save at the wrist, where a narrow
circlet of gold clung light and close about it. Her hair was dressed
in the same manner as the elder lady's, and differed only in its
golden sheen. The customary lamp had been banished, and colored
wax-candles, brought from some forgotten receptacle, burned in the
quaint old candelabra with which the mantels of the house had long
been decorated.
The one-armed veteran of thirty gazed in wonder at this unaccustomed
brightness. If he needed to gaze long and earnestly at the
fair creature who sat over against his mother, to determine the
resemblances which had been noted between the permanent and the
temporary invalid, who shall blame him for so doing?
Little Hildreth in his six-year-old wonderment was less judicial,
or at least required less time and inquiry to decide, for he cried
out even before an introduction could be given,
"Oh, papa, see, I've got a new, young grandma."
It was a gay party at that country supper-table, and four happier
people could hardly have gone afterward into the parlor where the
invalid allowed herself to be wheeled by her son in special honor
of their unintended guest.
Miss Ainslie was soon seated at the piano which Hesden had kept in
tune more for the pleasure of occasional guests than his own. It
was three years since she had touched one, but the little organ,
which some Northern benefactor had given to the church and school
at Red Wing, had served to prevent her fingers from losing all
their skill, and in a few minutes their wonted cunning returned.
She had been carefully trained and had by nature rare musical gifts.
The circumstances of the day had given a wonderful exhilaration to
her mind and thought. She seemed to have taken a leaf out of Paradise
and bound it among the dingy pages of her dull and monotonous life.
Every thing about her was so quaint and rare, the clothes she wore
so rich and fantastic, that she could not control her fancy. Every
musical fantasy that had ever crept into her brain seemed to be
trooping along its galleries in a mad gallop as her fair fingers
flew over the time-stained keys. The little boy stood clinging to
her skirt in silent wonder, his fair, sensitive face working, and
his eyes distended, with delighted amazement.
The evening came to an end at last, and when the servant went with
her in her quaint attire, lighting her up the winding stairway
from the broad hall to the great airy room above, with its yawning
fireplace cheery with the dying embers of a fire built hours ago
to drive out the dampness, and its two high-posted beds standing
there in lofty dignity, the little Yankee school marm could hardly
realize what madcap freaks she had perpetrated since she bounded
over the gate at the foot of the lane leading from the highway down
to Mulberry Hill, the ancestral home of the Richards family.
As she sat smiling and blushing over the memory of what she had
done and said in those delicious hours, a servant tapped at the
door and announced that Master Hildreth, whom she bore in her arms
and whose chubby fists were stuck into his eyes, was crying most
disconsolately lest he should lose his "new grandma" while he slept.
She had brought him, therefore, to inquire whether he might occupy
one of the beds in the young lady's room. Mollie had not seen for
so many years a child that she could fondle and caress, that it
was with unbounded delight that she took the little fellow from
his nurse's arms, laid him on the bed and coaxed his eyes to slumber.